


Planning Forever

by Oaklin



Series: Forever Everything [53]
Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Kayfabe Compliant, M/M, Papa Pierre, Sorta I guess, Swearing, also regular angst, although he is only mentioned in the most briefest of moments, but still, confusedchild!Kevin, is this like their version of The Talk?, obligatory Jacques Rougeau warning, obligatory Kevin Steen warning, stealth angst, stealth romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-10
Updated: 2017-06-10
Packaged: 2018-11-12 10:17:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11159823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oaklin/pseuds/Oaklin
Summary: As hard as he tries, he can't separate the violence from the light.If he knew where to look, he would have all the answers his heart desired.





	Planning Forever

**Author's Note:**

> Hello hello!
> 
> Dialogue heavy character wank ahead, so be warned if that sorta stuff bores you. This one is basically an exploration of Kevin's state of mind about his and Sami's developing friendship/whatever it can even be qualified as at this point. So, if you like talky, combative, confused soul searching and internalized, long winded naval gazing, then have I got a fic for you.
> 
> Sorry if it's boring to everyone else. Believe it or not, this one has a distinct purpose, beyond just my need to practice my characterization. On the topic of characterization, try not to cringe yourself to death at Kevin and his obtuse, unyielding ignorance about his own fucking feelings. He is a tiny confused baby who is so perpetually in denial about things that he befuddles himself more than anyone else.

Kevin slams down into the chair with enough force to send achy shock waves up his spine. Ignoring the discomfort, Kevin kicks his feet up on the table, leaning back in the rickety chair until the front legs of the seat are wobbling unsteadily in the air and the back legs are precariously perched on the ground.

Pierre doesn't look up or acknowledge Kevin‘s presence, beyond lifting one hand from the novel tucked between his fingers, to wave distractedly at Kevin‘s gratuitous display.

Kevin bites his lip, feeling _shafted_ and **ignored** and way more **_irritated_ ** at both of those feelings than is strictly necessary.

“The fuck do _you_ want," Kevin asks harshly, to no one in particular, the irrational anger flooding him at the present moment **perhaps** making him just a tad rash and impulsive.

- _a tad?_ -

(shut up)

Pierre glances up for the briefest of moments, something like laughter sparkling in his eyes.

Kevin kind of wants to punch him for it.

(asshole)

“You are the one who sat down with such vim and vigor, Kevin. I have made no such displays."

Kevin snorts derisively, something like relief flooding him as he realizes belatedly that perhaps he has not made a compete fool of himself, as of yet. He settles back in the chair, letting the front legs clatter to the floor as he drapes one ankle over his knee and relaxes.

“Whatever. I'll just sit here then, and you can do whatever the fuck it is that you were doing before I got here-"

Pierre is still looking at his book, but he speaks anyway, the words falling out of his mouth, cutting Kevin off without even raising his eyes.

“What exactly did you want to talk about, Kevin?"

Kevin freezes, stalling stock still as his mind struggles to fire after Pierre's words. He regroups after a heartbeat, snapping his mouth shut and slamming a glare Pierre's way as he readjusts himself in his seat to buy himself some time to articulate an answer that hopefully won’t come pouring out of his traitorous mouth like the roiling way his thoughts seem to be trying to spill from his every orifice.

- ** _ew_** -

(it’s an **expression** )

- _coined by who exactly?_ -

(me)

(now shut the fuck _up_ )

“Nothing," Kevin manages finally, cringing at the saddest of little denials, even as it falls out of his mouth.

(goddamn **_him_** )

Pierre does him the courtesy of not looking up, which Kevin is grudgingly thankful for.

“Right. I know a lie when I hear one. Don't be so childish."

(oh)

- _ **well** then_ -

“How about you say that to my face, you crusty old fuck?” Kevin growls, slamming his hands down on the table to emphasize his point.

Pierre doesn’t look up from his book-

(because of **course** he fucking doesn’t)

(the soulless **_bastard_** )

-he just turns to the next page nonchalantly, not so much as a twitch to betray that he had even heard the words that had just come out of Kevin’s mouth.

“Kevin, mind your volume. Little Jacques Jr. is sleeping on the couch in the locker room.”

Kevin snorts softly, sinking back down in his chair with an air of irritated, indignant ire.

“Like I give a shit about Rougeau’s spawn,” He mumbles, glaring down at the misshapen grain of the table.

Pierre does look up then, simply raising a single eyebrow in the face of what even Kevin will admit is somewhat of a boldfaced lie.

- _somewhat?_ -

(kinda)

“It’s not the _kids_ fault his dad is a **_douche_** ,” Kevin explains shortly, though he is not sure why exactly he feels the need to explain himself to fucking Pierre of all goddamn people.

It is not like he owes Pierre anything, much less an explanation about something that doesn’t actually _matter_ to begin with.

Pierre finally closes the book then, taking his glasses off and sliding his eyepatch back down over his eye. He leans over the table, regarding Kevin with a look that suggests he is choosing to humor a small child.

“Okay, fine then. What were you saying before, about what a sonuvabitch I am, or some such belligerent machismo?”

Kevin sighs dramatically, throwing his arms up and lounging backwards in his chair, turning his glare to the ceiling as he attempts to parse out how exactly Pierre pulls off that completely un-bothered look so goddamn well.

- _jealous?_ -

(...a little)

“I was trash taking. We’re fighting later. It’s what you do before you fight someone,” Kevin explains, for what feels like the fiftieth time in as many minutes.

Pierre cocks his head to the side, looking vaguely intrigued in that infuriatingly uninterested way.

“We can still trash talk, if you really want to. I didn’t mean to offend you with my lack of offensiveness.”

Kevin shoots Pierre a frown, earning only an innocent smile, before waving the smug bastard off with an exasperated sigh.

“Too late for that shit now, you’ve ruined the mood.”

That actually elicits a dry laugh from Pierre, much to Kevin’s eternal annoyance. Pierre tosses his book down on the table with a sharp thump of finality before planting his elbows firmly on the battered table top and regarding Kevin for a long heartbeat.

“What?” Kevin barks, the skin at the base of his neck prickling at the scrutinizing gaze he is on the receiving end of.

(the fuck is his problem?)

- _you, if i had to guess_ -

(fuck you)

“I was just wondering why you decided to come sit with me when you could be sitting... Other Places,” Pierre explains cryptically, resting his head in his palm, his arms braced on the table as he observes Kevin.

Kevin squints at the old bastard, his chest clenching as he resolutely refuses to even contemplate glancing around to his left, fighting down the urge to let his gaze wander to the whiny complaining he can still hear filtering through the open doorway to his left. The complaining that he seems unable to prevent himself from hearing, spoken in that **_melodious lilt_** that he hears at all times, through all his very _dreams_ and **nightmares** -

(fuck)

“Other places?” Kevin asks, his voice coming out a ragged whisper-growl, that makes his chest tight.

He hates the sound of his own fucking _voice_ sometimes.

**Fuck.**

Pierre nods, like he has no idea that Kevin is sitting there, internally conflicted, and fiercely aggravated.

(not)

- ** _right_** -

(fuck you)

- _you are a **mess** , kid_-

(no.)

(Fine.)

- _right_ -

- _that is why you are having a conversation with **yourself**_ -

- _like every **‘Fine'** person does_ -

- _crazy bitch_ -

Kevin grinds his teeth together, pressing his tongue to the roof of his mouth to keep all the - ** _too much_** \- in. And Pierre just sits there, like he always does, all attentive and curious and wise. Even when Pierre does speak, his voice is so smooth and calm and so fucking rational that Kevin just wants to launch himself across the table **and** -

“With Other People,” Pierre adds, like it is even fucking necessary at this point when Kevin is sitting right _fucking there_ and **_that fucking voice_** is flooding his ears, from across the goddamn building, warbling on about whatever inane bullshit it is that _**he** _ talks to Eddy about on a daily fucking basis.

**_Fuck._ **

“If you want me to leave, just say the word,” Kevin grinds out through clenched teeth, rocking back in his chair as he tries for nonchalance, though he is sure that Pierre is not fooled.

The bastard rarely is.

Pierre waves Kevin’s offer away, though they both ignore the fact that Kevin never made even the slightest effort to get up or move from his position in any way.

“No, of course not. I, for one, welcome your delightful, uplifting presence. You do make my day brighter, every time you decide to grace me with your presence.”

Kevin snorts, mostly because he is sure, that for some reason, there is a hint of truth in there. Why, exactly he is not sure.

“I have no idea why. It’s no a fucking secret that I’m an insufferable jackass, so I don’t know why you would want to be around me.”

That earns him an amused, if a little exasperated expression.

“Fishing for compliments now, are we? I would think such groveling would be beneath you.”

Kevin rolls his eyes skyward, opening his mouth to snap back, but Pierre bends his neck, inspecting the grain of the table as he runs a hand through his scraggly grandpa hair and rambles incoherently.

“To answer your question, or at least the indirect one that you didn’t actually ask, because you are a coward, I like you. You are amusing, and intelligent, and an excellent fighter. Those are your better qualities, and I know you think they make you immune. But I don’t hate you or even dislike you for you jackass tendencies or your mouthy, sullen moods. I’m sure it puzzles you, that your patented survival strategy doesn’t work on me, or really anyone else that cares enough to duck under all the pomp and circumstance, but that doesn’t mean that it is a _lie_. Just because you don’t **understand** something doesn’t, by default, make it **_untrue_**.”

(the _fuck_ )

- ** _well_** -

“I didn’t ask for a goddamn kindergarten lesson on **friendship**. For fucks **_sake_** ,” Kevin grumbles belatedly, slamming the front legs of the chair back down on the floor and leveling Pierre with his best unimpressed look.

 _Really_ though.

What the fuck is **this?**

A poorly executed episode of Mr. Rogers?

**_Goddamn._ **

- _doesn't he have someone else he can teach about world peace and the magic of friendship?_ -

Pierre is beaming at him, for once, a true, real, scarred smile and Kevin doesn’t really fucking know what to do with that. Pierre saves him the trouble, by speaking into the stilted silence that seems to drag on for an eternity.

“Of course! My mistake, I forgot for a minute who I was talking too,” Pierre picks his book back up, flopping it around in the air as he talks with his hands emphatically, “Although, perhaps I spoke too soon, as that was almost an admission of you being my friend there. Good job, Kevin.”

- _should **slap** him across his **whore mouth**_ -

“I am not a _coward_ ,” Kevin says instead, the protest falling weakly out of his mouth and just laying there on the table between them. Even Kevin winces at the sad, pathetically whiny way it reverberates around the room, wishing he could learn to keep is goddamn trap shut.

Pierre’s bright smile turns softer around the edges and Kevin sneers at the hint of pity that creeps into Pierre’s gaze.

“Of course you are not. You will fight anyone, at any time, for any reason. And that makes you not a coward.”

For some reason, that makes Kevin’s brain ache if he tries to think about it for too long, there is a distinct thread of insincerity there in Pierre’s word choice and tone. The words sound correct, but Kevin gets the nagging sensation that Pierre thinks he is a _massive_ coward and he cannot parse out why.

Kevin is not even sure why it **bothers** him, honestly.

Pierre’s opinion might as well be shit on the bottom of Kevin’s shoe.

**_Right?_ **

( _fuck_ )

- ** _idiot_** -

“There are things that people do, that make them _cowards_ regardless of the **strength of their resolve**. Even when they kick everyone’s asses, and don’t take any shit from anyone. **_Sometimes_** , people still...” Kevin coughs into his fist, glaring at the wall, trying to tear his brain away from it’s newfound fascination with the concept of cowardice.

(why does it **matter** )

Pierre seems completely unfazed, merely nodding amicably along with Kevin’s words, like the confused gibberish plopping out of Kevin’s mouth makes _perfect sense_.

(which it clearly does not)

Kevin isn't sure whether that proves him or Pierre the crazy one out of the two of them.

“What you say is very true, and I commend your newfound wisdom on the subject. Perhaps you should give the matter more thought? I realize that it is a lot to take in, but fear is sometimes the appropriate reaction to Certain Situations, even when Certain Situations are not necessarily dangerous.”

 ** _That laugh_** echoes down the hallway, and Kevin closes his eyes as he catches a glimpse of the most dangerous smile he has ever seen in his fucking life.

“Not everything that is **dangerous** has _claws_ , Pierre,” Kevin mumbles, feeling hazel eyes turn to him, even from this distance. He nods wordlessly to the enthusiastic wave he receives, watching Sami bounce off down the hall and weathering Eddy’s sympathetic look.

Pierre laughs wryly at that, his smile slightly sardonic.

“Indeed. Danger comes in all forms. Sometimes it’s even wrapped in ribbons of the purest of light.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hmm. I may be getting better at fluff. Sort of? Thoughts on Kevin's character arc so far?
> 
> Sami didn't really get to do a lot in this one, except torment Kevin without actually being present. Which happens all the time anyway. On a related note, I like how Kevin is so thrown off here, that he is actually being much less awful than usual. And here he is, asking for advice (in a typically bby!Steen like manner, of course) in the most ungrateful and combative way possible.
> 
> Progress is progress, though, I suppose <3
> 
> Anyway, I've got work to do today, so I hope you have a good week, and enjoy the fic!


End file.
